I'm Going to Have to Start Charging You for our Sexual Relations

Hey baby. So, as you already know, I'm runnin' pretty low on cash these days, and now things have taken another bad turn. Mr. Jerkinks - oh I mean "Jenkins" - fired me from Cactus Outlet. Stupid old shit. Maybe he could have explained to me before he fired me that I was supposed to water the cactuses. Don't cactuses usually live in the desert? I don't see why it's my fault that he never told me that he got pussy, water-needing cactuses.

Anyways, the point is that I'm strapped for cash babe. Now you know how much I care about you - how much I care about us. And I want there to always be an "us." So I've thought it over, and I think in order for me to be able to afford going out with you, I'm going to have to start charging you for our sexual relations.

Think about it, baby: I'd be able to pay my bills, afford rent, and have the means to treat you like the princess you are. And you get to keep having sex with me.

The thing is, if I don't have some kind of revenue, I fear our relationship could suffer. Gas ain't cheap these days, and my mom's '91 Caravan just guzzles that shit. Without a job, I can't afford gas. Without gas, in order to get to your apartment I'd have to catch the Blue Seven busline, which would not only take an extra fifteen minutes to get to your neighborhood, but wouldn't get me any closer than FIVE blocks from your apartment. All said, this adds another 25-30 minutes going to your apartment, and then ANOTHER 25-30 minutes going back! At this stage in our lives, baby, do we really want a long distance relationship?

What about the future? Are we ever going to be able to afford that red-brick house with the white-pickett fence if you're the only one earning money? Think about it.

I'm pretty sure I've demonstrated in the past that I'm regularly willing to supply "product" (i.e., having sex with you). And as my beautiful, lovely, girlfriend, you are entitled to top-notch customer service. I have three guarantees to ensure maximum customer satisfaction:

Sex Guarantee #1: Great rates. Other men who charge women for sex will charge $100, maybe even $150 for a night of sex. $150?!? Not for my baby. You get to have sex with me for merely $50 a night. But wait! I'm also offering a special daytime rate of $15 for any sex between 8AM and 8PM. Still not good enough? How about this: for every five times you have sex with me, you earn thirty minutes of sex with me - free of charge.

Sex Guarantee #2: "The customer is always right." You want me to perform oral sex on you (or if you want to perform it on me), consider it done. Making love to you in your rear? You got it. Want to invite one of your girlfriends over so both of you can have your way with me? She gets in for HALF price. Whatever it is you want*, you get.

*No queer stuff with other dudes - company policy.

Sex Guarantee #3: As the old saying goes, the customer always comes first. (I promise, I'll try real hard to make that more of a habit in the future.)

Operators are standing by. (I told my roommate, Rodney, about the idea, so he can help you reach me when you want to have sex with me.) Call within the next ten minutes, and save half-off on post-sex snuggling charges.

I've Noticed an Attitude Shift in my Ten Year-old Daugther Since Telling Her Santa isn't Real

Around other kids in the neighborhood:

Okay, I'll play House with you guys. I'll be an attorney from New York in her early 30s, but I don't want any kids. Aside from lying to me for my whole life, the cruelest thing my parents ever did to me was bringing me into this world in the first place. So no kids for me. Sam, you can play my husband, but don't think into this designation too much. It's solely for the sake of the game. Maybe there was a time when I could have loved you Sam, a time when I truly would have loved you with my whole heart. But that was a different me, when my heart still had some warmth. There is no love in this life.

Who wants to be Sam and my neighbors?


Around her younger siblings:

John, you've really got to stop whining about going to Grandma's. Going to Grandma's isn't the most exciting way to spend an afternoon - OK, not only do we all know that, but you know what else? We all agree with you. But when Mom says, "It's really important that we go," she's really saying, "Grandma's going to die soon and I want us to see her while we still can." Grandma's not getting any younger, John, and neither is mother. Grandma getting so close to death - and Mom, stop me on this if I'm off at all - Grandma getting so close to death is not only going to be a great loss for Mom, but a harsh reminder of her own mortality. We're all going to die, John. And in this wretched world, we all die alone. There is no hope. There is no rescue. Anything you ever thought was good in this life is an illusion. The only thing you can rely on being certain is that one day you will be consumed by the inescapable void of non-existence.

Oh, did I make you cry? Maybe you'll feel better when "Santa Claus" delivers your Legos to you next week. Simpleton.


Around me:

Father, I know you're in the middle of enjoying this episode of CSI: New York, a show that really sums up how lofty your aesthetic sensibilities are, but it has been 38 minutes since you promised me that you would help me with my history report. Is that another thing you've chosen to lie to me about? Can I trust anything you tell me ever again? Well, maybe I'm being a little too hard on you. After all, this is Gary Sinese we're talking about here. Why wouldn't a shitty show with a washed up actor be more important to you than you're own daughter? I know why: you're a terrible father.


Around her basketball coach:

So let me get this straight: all we need to be champions is practice, hustle, and determination? Gee, that sounds simple. Is that the same winning formula you followed to become the fifth grade girls basketball coach that you are today? Don't lie to these girls, Coach. We're average at best. The last thing they need is someone lying to them and allowing them to believe in dreams. The longer they believe in dreams, the more crushed they'll be when they learn that no one ever gets what they want in life.

Unless, of course, it's always been your dream to be a fifth grade girls coach. In which case, I feel so bad for you that I hope you die in your sleep tonight.


50 feet away from the mall Santa:

WHAT'S YOUR DEAL? CAN'T GET OFF LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN BEING? GOTTA GET YOUR JOLLIES LIKE THIS? BURN IN HELL! BURN IN HELL!

First Date: Special Edition

Hi Stacy! George here. Hope that this e-mail finds you well this Sunday morning. I wanted to write and let you know how much fun I had last night. And also, I wanted to check in and make sure that you had an okay time too. Have you decided yet whether you'd like to go on a second date with me? I sensed at times last night you might not have been crazy about how the date was going. If you were to decide to chance a second rendezvous with yours truly, I promise a dazzling, even more spectacular evening than last night.

I will pick you up in a limousine again, only this time it will be a color-changing limousine (think Wizard of Oz horse). We will ride this "limousine of a different color" to Le Petit Chateau, where we dined last night. I have arranged to change the candle lighting inside (which I thought was just a little outdated) to laser lighting. Lasers are hip, and kids love them. I think this will be much better than the lighting on the first date.

I've already reserved us the same booth we sat in last night. By next weekend, though, it will have hovercraft technology installed in it and will be capable of mid-air suspension ten feet off the ground. (Should be safe by Saturday night. Think you'll be free then?)

Our waiter (who will serve us by jetpack) will now have an Italian accent. When I was planning the first date, I decided on Le Petit Chateau because I remember you saying that you like French food. If I had also known that you had lived in Italy for a year, then I would have arranged for Sergio to be on the job last night. But details like this can always be fixed on a second run.

For my part, I will learn enough Italian to order your meal for you. (Also, I will opt for mashed potatoes this time instead of garlic bread. And I will remember chewing gum.) Over dinner, the conversation will be less focused on my ex-wife, and more directed at your interests and background. I will also be funnier.

In addition to enhancing aspects of last night's date, I have plans for new material as well:

1) In this date edition, I will call over the house string-quartet to play Chopin for you. After they finish, I will say, "Not bad. Care if I give it a whirl?" Sergio will jetpack the violin up to me so I can play you "Ewok Celebration Suite."

2) When we can eat no more, we will leave the restaurant arm in arm. Steps away from my color-changing limo, a gun-wielding mugger will emerge from the shadows and demand your purse. Positioning myself between you and harm's way, I will wave my hand and say, "You don't need to have her purse." He will say (to you), "I don't need to have your purse." I will say, "She can leave and have a pleasant evening," and he will say (to you again), "You can leave. And have a pleasant evening." While you are still shocked, I will offer you champagne from my color-changing limousine.

3) Same mugger situation, only this time the mugger will shoot at me before I say a word. I will very quickly shift my entire body to the left in one jerky, near impossible motion to avoid the bullet. After shooting him in the chest (with a gun I kept hidden all night), I will offer you champagne from my color-changing limousine.

As you can tell, this date improves in so many ways upon the original. I really hope that you – not the CGI you – will be joining me for it.

<3
George